Under Fire
by li'lmissnitpick
Summary: What did Charlie do with all that leave time? Because we all know sitting home alone isn’t his style, especially when there’s an outside chance he’ll see a hot girl in a bikini.
1. Chapter 1

**Part I**

William Carson may not have approved of him, but Charlie Grey wasn't one to back away from a challenge.

Carson was a suspicious son of a bitch, but his suspicions were well placed. Charlie couldn't help but feel a grudging respect for the old soldier, but still, the man was making his life a living hell. First having him frog-marched out of Joss' ranch, then shoving him back on a plane to Southern California without a word…Charlie definitely didn't appreciate that little fiasco.

But Charlie was a resourceful bastard, and he managed to slip off the plane and had Joss meet him for a beer at the local watering hole—his treat this time—to explain.

She reluctantly agreed, and as soon as he'd laid the situation on the table, he reiterated that he was who he said he was and asked her to take a chance on him. After a short deliberating and a few sly—and damned seductive—sidelong glances, she said that she wasn't one to back away from a challenge and told him to buy her a beer.

Charlie was even more convinced that she was the woman for him, and the two proceeded to get along like a barn on fire, drinking, talking, and, after realizing the time, sharing a dinner consisting of passable bar food and cold beer. The two regretfully parted and as he drove home, Charlie once again marvelled at his good fortune in finding the perfect woman.

The next day, Joss called, asking him to join her for an impromptu mini vacation in Columbia, which, as a man and an adventure seeker, Charlie couldn't pass up. He still had a week and a half of leave left, and if he had to spend it fending off Carson's wrathful glares, Joss' presence more than made up for it in his mind, especially if there was an outside chance that he'd get to see her in a bikini on a beach in Cartajena. He grabbed a duffel and shoved some necessities in it before heading off to the airport.

This time, Joss met him, which made him smile. Apparently, she didn't want to take a chance that Carson would ship him off to Siberia rather than put him on a plane with her. She conducted him across the tarmac where a sleek new jet emblazoned with the Morgan Aviation logo awaited them.

"Why, Miss Morgan. I've never travelled in such style," he teased. Hey, it was mostly true. Military transports tended to forgo the amenities like food, in-flight movies and comfortable seats.

"Stick with me kid. We'll go places." She laughed. "Gotta take care of a little business on this trip, too. Earn, my keep. Normally I'd just take commercial, but you can't sell airplanes you won't fly yourself, so here we are." They reached the stairs leading up into the belly of the plane. "We'll have to put up with a few bodyguards, but don't worry, they're the best. We won't even know they're there."

Charlie nodded and ascended the stairs, feeling vaguely naked without his weapon. He rarely got on a plane without some form of protection, even if that meant there was something waiting for him at his destination. His desire calmed when he joined Joss and saw the three bodyguards ranged about the cabin. Two of them had the large, solid, built-like-a-brick-wall physique of professional bodyguards. He discounted Frick and Frack as useless unless one of them inserted himself bodily between Joss and the path of a bullet. But they were both armed with Glock 22s (which he suspected had rarely made it out of the impractical holsters that housed them) so at least he knew where to get a hold of a weapon if he needed one.

It was the third bodyguard who put Charlie at ease. The younger man was smaller than the other two, his build wiry and deceptively strong. He carried himself like he knew what he was doing, thought Charlie, and his opinion was confirmed when he caught a glimpse of the younger man's face.

It was Jake Stepanek of Charlie team, a young soldier he'd put through selection himself a few years ago. He was the team's rookie still, which accounted for his babysitting duty, but he wouldn't be here if Ryan didn't have confidence in him. Charlie gave the man a curt nod of recognition before taking a seat next to Joss. He took a perverse sense of satisfaction from the glare Carson shot him before settling in.

He wondered just how much pull Joss and Carson had to rate a unit member watching their backs, and asked, "So, these guys are bodyguards, huh? Where do you go to get one of those?"

"Jones and Lesansky have been with me for years. Jake here's a loaner," she said, hitching a thumb at the unit member.

"Like a mercenary?" he asked, deliberately playing dumb. He wondered if she knew what she had, or it Carson was, as he suspected, behind it all.

"Army. Some elite unit or other. Carson's got connections at the DoD. I think he threatened to stop accepting defense contracts. They practically threw people at us."

Carson rolled his eyes and Charlie let the matter quietly drop, his estimation of Joss' involvement in the company rising somewhat. It was a smart woman who not only protected her company, but herself.

When they arrived at the airport, Charlie slipped away while the group went through customs and approached Jake for the scoop. "Hey, man, how've you been?"

"Not bad," said Jake. "Better than you, I'd say. I hear you got clipped awhile back."

"Yeah," said Charlie, lifting his sling. "Bad luck."

"I'm surprised Ryan sent you out like that."

"What? No, Joss invited me."

"Oh yeah? Lucky dog. How do you know her?"

"Met her last week. Brought in a busted airplane piston for me to look at. Made me a bet, hustled some jerks, bought me a beer. The rest is history."

"Damn, you work fast."

"She's the one, buddy. I can feel it."

"Huh. Never thought I'd see the day."

"Me neither."

"A hero has fallen. But seriously man, congratulations."

"Thanks. Hey, listen. What's the story here? Carson really have that much pull with the DoD?"

"Almost. But there have been some rumblings around here. Morgan Aviation's selling new aircraft to the Columbian government to help law enforcement keep order. Needless to say every drug dealer, rebel leader and anonymous flunkie gang banger are all shittin' bricks. Miss Morgan's received a bunch of death threats, so we're being cautious. The powers that be have deemed that it's good for the Columbians to have their planes, so damned if they don't."

"Thanks for the info, man," said Charlie, giving Jake a quick nod to let him know the others were coming.

Joss and Carson approached, followed by Frick and Frack. "What are you two whispering about?" asked Joss.

"Just asking him about his job," replied Charlie. Didn't know the military rented out soldiers as bodyguards. Seems kinda boring seeing as there's a war going on."

"Protecting Joss is a full-time job that requires focus, precision and expertise. You can't be too careful in this part of the world," said Carson seriously.

"Right," said Charlie sternly fighting himself to keep from rolling his eyes. "So, ah...where to first?"

"I've got a townhouse," said Joss piling into a large van with the others. "Ugly monstrosity if you ask me, but it's comfortable enough."

The "townhouse" was a tiny-looking building sandwiched between two others, its crumbling brick facade and overgrown garden right at home with the ambiance of the area, which existed somewhere between condemned wreck and crack-house chic. Once Charlie entered the house, however, he saw the rich, cozy interior belied the outside's dilapidated appearance. "Nice digs," he said, almost unconsciously noticing all points of egress and filing them away for later. From what he saw, the place was completely defensible and allowed a rapid exit if needed.

Score one for Carson. He knew how to pick a house.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part II**

A housekeeper showed them all to their rooms. Joss had generously offered to buy them all lunch, so they dressed—casually, Joss insisted—and met back downstairs. They all piled into two large, black sedans, Frick and Frack ahead in one, and the rest of them riding with Jake. Carson grudgingly allowed Joss and Charlie to sit together in the back, likely because of his size rather than any desire to let the two lovebirds be together.

Charlie sat back and enjoyed the smooth ride until Jake started taking a number of abrupt left turns, eventually coming full circle. Charlie's eyes met Jake's in the rear view mirror in recognition. They were being followed.

Carson spoke up from the passenger seat. "What's going on? We just passed this a few minutes ago."

"We're being followed, sir. Blue sedan, three cars back, inside lane."

"Shit," said Carson. "Can you lose him?"

"I can try."

He whipped the car into a hard right turn and sped up, taking a series of quick turns, often doubling back and changing direction. Frick and Frack were long gone, but Jake still couldn't shake the tail. A near collision and a blocked intersection left them with only one available route. Jake swore as he almost ran into Frick and Frack's car, which had been neatly boxed into a wide courtyard filled with large packing crates from the local businesses that backed onto it. They had been effectively herded.

Suddenly, the leading car exploded in a hail of fire and debris. Bullets rained down on the vehicle from all sides. Luckily not from above, thought Charlie. They weren't professionals.

"Get out of the car!" shouted Jake, but he fell a moment later as soon as he opened the door, a bullet lodging in his chest and his head slamming against the car door with a sickening thunk. Charlie lunged over the seat and grabbed the now unconscious man's collar, hauling him back into the car with his good arm. He ripped off Jake's shirt and assessed the damage to the chest while he tore the shirt into strips. He shoved them at Carson and said, "Here, apply steady pressure. Don't stop. And for God's sake, stay down."

"We have to get out of the car," said Carson. "We're sitting ducks."

Charlie quickly took in their situation and had to re-evaluate. Jake was right in his initial assessment to get the hell out, but now that their protection was down, the options had changed. "Right now it's the only protection we've got," he said. "If they wanted to blow us up, we'd be dead already. They lured the other car hear to get rid of the bodyguards."

"Holy shit," said Joss.

Charlie seized Joss' chin between his thumb and forefinger and made her look at him. "They don't want to kill you, they want to kidnap you. Probably hold you for ransom. I'm not going to let that happen, okay?" he said gently but firmly.

"Okay."

"Carson, I need you to spread yourself across the seat like you've been shot. Look harmless. Keep holding pressure." He opened the rear door, shucked his sling and stepped out. A gunman appeared from the other side of the car, his weapon raised as he rapidly approached. Charlie raised his hands in the classic surrender pose, shielding Joss's body with his own while speaking rapid-fire Spanish, pleading for their lives, promising money and power, anything to get the man just a little bit closer…

With a sudden burst of speed, Charlie rammed the gunman's hand to the left while bracing his forearm. The wrist snapped, and the gunman dropped the weapon. Before he could let out a scream, Charlie delivered a crushing blow to the solar plexus before reaching around the man's neck and squeezing, holding the pose for a good thirteen seconds until he felt the body go slack, unconscious. The man would be out for about ten minutes, plus or minus. It would have to be enough time. He just hoped it wasn't minus.

Charlie retrieved the gun and quickly ascertained how many rounds were left before slamming the clip back into place and chambering a round. He made sure the safety was engaged before telling Joss to take over for Carson. Trembling only slightly, she obeyed without a word. Charlie passed the gun to Carson butt first. "You remember how to use one of these?" he asked, expecting an indignant reply.

He smiled grimly when Carson replied that he'd shoot Charlie and they'd find out. That was good. Carson was still his ornery self. He might have been scared and vulnerable, but he kept his cool, he managed to function.

Charlie nodded briskly. "Use it only as a last resort. No other choice, got it?"

"I'll do what I have to, damn it. It'll be a cold day in hell when I take orders from some hotshot mechanic. I was a soldier."

"Good," said Charlie. "Then you know that you only take a life when there is no other option. You also know we only have a limited amount of bullets. I'm not telling what to do because it amuses me, or because I get off on telling you what to do, I'm just telling you what needs to be done."

"You're no goddamn plane mechanic," grumbled Carson.

"Charlie, what the hell is going on?" said Joss. "Just where did you learn to fight like that?"

"A bully taught me," he said with a fierce grin, thinking of the bastards he'd trained with, beating the shit out of him because it was the only way he'd learn, then picking him up and putting him through the whole damn thing again. As much as he'd hated those guys back then, the lessons they'd taught him had saved his life more than once.

"Bullshit."

"Explanations later," he said, before they were peppered with another hail of bullets originating from their left.

Carson raised his gun to return fire, but Charlie grabbed his arm in a vice-like grip. "Save the bullets," he said. "And try not to shoot anyone. I really don't want to explain to the local cops why I shouldn't rot in some goddamn Columbian prison for the next thirty years, if it's all the same to you."

He unholstered Jake's weapon and shoved it in the waistband of his pants. He hopped out of the car, staying low and moving fast, keeping cover behind the crates wherever possible. When he reached the location from which the last shots were fired, he quickly neutralized the threat with a headlock.

Charlie knew there was one more hostile playing possum. He'd distinctly heard two separate reports, one ahead and slightly to the right. He assessed the likely hiding spots and started to narrow the list by process of elimination. He made his way back toward the car, a flash of movement having caught his attention. He saw a scared-looking man with a handgun, too low and out of position to get a clear shot at the car. He was obviously contemplating making a break for it when Charlie attacked. He knocked the gun out of the man's hand, but the man fought back with strength born of desperation. He dove out into the open to retrieve his weapon, but Charlie couldn't let that happen, couldn't take the chance that the guy would get off a lucky shot and hit Joss. He took the man down with several well-placed punches and kicks.

He cursed his luck when he saw the blood seeping into his shirt. Damn. Stitches popped. But then, the hostile was up, holding the gun that had been knocked away. Charlie reached for the weapon in his waistband, knowing he was a second to slow and preparing himself to get shot yet again, his sole consolation that the guy was shaking too bad to hit him anywhere vital. Deliberately, at least.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part III**

BLAM. The man fell to his knees with a disbelieving look on his face, a trickle of blood escaping his mouth and dribbling down his chin. He finally collapsed face-first, the large hole Carson blew into his back bleeding sluggishly and pooling around his body in a copper-scented puddle. Charlie didn't have to check his pulse to know the man was dead.

He grabbed Jake's earwig and radio and stepped away, reporting in to the TOC where no doubt someone would be monitoring the channel. They would get in touch with their people in-country and send in local law enforcement to pick up the would-be kidnappers. He quickly securing the remaining hostiles with zip ties out of Jake's pocket and lined them all up where he could keep an eye on them.

Avoiding Joss' eyes, he took her place next to Jake, gently unclenching her hands to get a look at the wound.

"Charlie, you're bleeding," said Joss, looking at the seeping wound in his shoulder.

"Don't worry, just popped a couple of stitches. I'll be fine."

"And him?" she asked, with a nod toward Jake.

"Shot's clean, embedded in the shoulder. He'll have to have surgery to remove it, but he should be okay. I'm a little worried about the head wound—he's been out for about three minutes. If he's not awake and bitching by the time the ambulance gets here, we'll re-evaluate.

"You might wanna re-evaluate what you've been tellin' us about yourself," said Carson. Airplane mechanic my ass."

"Would you just knock it off for now, Carson, so I can make sure this man doesn't bleed to death?" Charlie asked tersely, cleaning the wound with some alcohol he'd found in a first aid kit behind the driver's seat before flushing it out with some saline solution.

Jake, awakened by the searing pain in his chest at Charlie's careful ministrations let out a low hiss.

"It's about damn time you woke up, Sleeping Beauty," Charlie grumbled. "Did your job for you."

"Jesus Christ, Nurse Betty," said Jake, playfully alluding to Charlie's codename. "You need to work on your bedside manner. But thanks, man."

"This would work better if you were unconscious."

Jake chuckled and winced. "Don't make me laugh, asshole. Damn, I've got a headache. Got some aspirin in there?"

"Aspirin's a blood thinner, you idiot."

"Shit. Tylenol?"

"Never mind that. I hear ambulances. They'll be here in a minute or two. You'll be high as a kite in no time, buddy." He finished dressing the wound and turned to Carson and Joss just as two police cars and an ambulance rolled up.

"Hospital first. We'll deal with the cops later."

Carson looked as if he wanted to argue, but looked at Joss, who despite her toughness was still in shock. He nodded in assent.

Charlie directed the paramedics to Jake. "This one first. He's worst off."

"I can take another," said one of the medics, looking between Joss and Carson.

"I'll go," said Charlie, not wanting to put up with another argument with Carson when he believed them to be reasonably safe.

"No, sir," said the other medic. "You need urgent attention," he said, indicating the blood pouring out of Charlie's shoulder. "The next ambulance will take you. We'll take one of the others who doesn't need as much attention."

The other ambulance arrived and two more medics jumped out.

"I'll go," said Carson after a pause. He didn't want to leave Joss, but he knew that if worst came to worst, she'd be better off with Charlie. It galled him—he still didn't trust the man—but he would do it for her. He handed the gun to one of the officers, dropping it into an evidence bag. He hopped up beside Jake and said to Charlie, "Look after her with your life."

Charlie nodded solemnly. "You got it."

They climbed into the next ambulance. Charlie peeled off his shirt before the medics could cut it off. "Old injury," he said. "Pulled the stitches. Nothing to worry about," he said in Spanish.

One cleaned the wound while the other checked Joss, patching up a few superficial scratches before wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, more for comfort than for warmth. Throughout the entire process, she didn't flinch once, just stared unwaveringly at Charlie as if he was a puzzle she was bent on solving. "That a bullet wound?" she asked quietly.

"It's nothing," he repeated, and looked away. Joss was silent.

When they reached the hospital, the police were waiting. Jake was gone, presumably already taken to surgery to remove the bullet. Carson was in the waiting room, refusing to accompany the officers to the station without having first seen Joss.

Their reunion was brief as the police wanted to conduct their questioning as soon as possible, but a no-nonsense nurse shooed them away to ensure Joss and Carson were properly examined. They had so much of Jake's blood on them, she must have known they'd been though a lot and decided to cut them some slack.

Charlie also knew that it would do them both good to clean up a bit before going through the proverbial ringer yet again. At least they'd have the chance to look into the mirror and remind themselves of their humanity. And acknowledge their triumph in the face of death.

It didn't take long for the doctor to stitch Charlie back up, and after being subjected to a—painful—scrubbing and a number of needles, he was finally left alone in his bed to think about what lay ahead.

He still had to deal with the police without letting on that he was a special ops soldier in the U.S. Army. He'd probably have to deal with some embassy officials who would only make things more complicated—for him anyway. Of course he was confident that everything would eventually get sorted out by the meticulous unseen hands of the unit, directed of course by Colonel Ryan, who would no doubt rip him a new one for being so careless as to exacerbate an old injury. And get in the middle of a firefight on foreign soil.

His cover with Joss was blown to hell, and unless Ryan cleared her to ask some questions, he'd either have to keep up the lame lie—which she'd reject—or disappear without a trace—which would hurt them both and piss her off. Regardless of Joss' feelings, Carson would in all probability as soon shoot him as allow him to even get within shouting distance of her. He'd condemn Charlie for his job, punish him for his skills, and damn him for his lies.

And once he got back, in the absence of Top, Molly would feel the need to take it upon herself to lecture him on his recklessness in running off to South America with a girl he barely knew. In all he thought it would be less painful to go out and get shot again than face his own personal firing squad.

Jake didn't know how good he had it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Part IV**

Before Charlie could sink too far into self-pity, the door to the room opened.

"You seem to be making this a habit, son," said Colonel Ryan.

"I'm touched," said Charlie, "that you came all the way here for me."

"Someone's got to clean up the mess you made," replied Ryan. "Carson's breathing down my neck wanting me to find out just who the hell you are."

"What was I supposed to do?" asked Charlie, instantly defensive. "Was I supposed to let those morons kidnap them? Kill them?"

Ryan was silent for a moment before saying, "You see what kind of position you put me in. A pissed off civilian with friends in high places and enough money to buy more is asking questions about you that I can't answer."

"What do you need me to do, sir?" asked Charlie, staring straight ahead.

Ryan studied the other man for a few moments before the door opened once again. Joss and Carson entered cautiously, sizing up Ryan and Charlie.

"Colonel Ryan," said Carson.

"Miss Morgan, Mr. Carson. I trust you're well," said Ryan slowly. "I came here to check on my man," he said, leaving the sentence purposefully ambiguous. "I'll debrief Mr. Grey when he's had a chance to regain some of the blood he lost. I'd like to speak to the two of you whenever you can."

Carson nodded and turned his piercing eyes to Charlie. "So now it's Grey, huh? You lied to me, kid. You lied to both of us."

"Nothing I can say will make you believe otherwise," said Charlie, carefully neither confirming nor denying.

Ryan's lips quirked. He paused before making a decision. "You asked me to find out what I could about this man," he said, with a nod toward Charlie.

"Didn't think you'd be done so fast," replied Carson. "Not that I'm complaining."

"Sergeant First Class Charles Grey, U.S. Army," said Ryan briskly. "Mr. Grey was under orders not to reveal himself."

"Whose orders?" asked Carson, already suspecting.

"Mine."

"I see."

Ryan nodded once and headed for the door. "Sergeant Grey," he said over his shoulder. "You've got an extra week's leave. Spend it at home, please. The army can't afford any more of your medical bills."

The door quietly snicked shut, leaving Charlie alone with the two civilians.

"You're into some dangerous stuff, son," said Carson. It wasn't a question. He knew all too well the responsibilities of a soldier, but he acknowledged that he probably didn't know the half of what a man like Charlie did.

"Sir." It wasn't an answer.

"You work with Colonel Ryan?"

"Yes, sir."

"So this was all a setup?" asked Joss. "You got close to me so you could weasel your way into an undercover assignment?" She was hurt and angry and damned beautiful when those emotions took control, thought Charlie.

"No," he said firmly. "You came to me, remember?"

"And the flirting? The drinks? Everything else?"

"I liked you. You're beautiful, smart, adventurous…I told Molly I thought you were the one. You'd already made me fall in love with you by the time you brought in that busted piston and calmly told me that switchblades are illegal. Hustling those guys at the pool hall clinched it."

"And what about coming here to Columbia?"

"I wanted to see you in a bikini," said Charlie truthfully, with a trace of a wicked grin. "I recognized Jake on the plane, which was my first indication that something was up. He filled me in on what was going on at the airport."

"You might have told me," said Joss.

Before Charlie could answer, he received help from the last quarter he would have expected—Carson.

"I know a bit about guys like this. Not a lot," he said with a quick glance at Charlie. "I don't think anyone knows much about them, except for them. But I know enough to recognize the dept of secrecy going on around there. I heard even the soldiers' wives don't know where they go or what they do. They never even find out how their husbands die."

So not help, so much as hindrance. "Thanks a lot, Carson," thought Charlie but said nothing. It was true, after all.

"That's no life," Carson continued, this time looking at Joss. "It's not worth it. _He's _not worth it."

"Don't you have anything to say to that?" asked Joss at Charlie's continued silence.

"Not really. There's nothing I can say. I can't tell you it's not true, I can't guarantee that it'll change, I can't—I won't—promise to quit. I've got nothing to give you, Joss, except myself."

Joss took a deep breath. "Guess I just have one more question."

"Yeah?" said Charlie, preparing himself for the worst.

"Want someone to keep you company for your next week of leave?"

Charlie smiled. "I thought you'd never ask."

**A/N: Hi everyone! I just want to thank everyone who reviewed this story. As much as I hate to say so, it fuels the creative process!**

**Also, I want to take the time to disclaim any and all ownership of the characters or the show. I know it's pretty much a given, but it doesn't hurt to say it.**

**And finally, I want to pat myself on the back for having finally finished a story. I know it's a short one, but it's all I have time for. It feels finished to me, and that's a first.**

**Thanks for all your encouragement,**

**Li'lmissnitpick**


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